


A Moment In Time

by jacaranda_bloom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Bottom Louis, Castles, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Magic, OTRA Sheffield, Top Harry, clifford, otra, the Larry Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/pseuds/jacaranda_bloom
Summary: It’s the final OTRA Show in Sheffield. They’ve played their last song, the fans are screaming, and the boys have given each other warm embraces, all except Harry and Louis that is... because they don’t do that. Not anymore. Not for a long time. Just as they’re about to roll out their well-practised avoidance tactics and bypass each other, a blinding light flashes across the arena and in an instant Harry and Louis find themselves alone, in a tower, in the middle of a raging sea, with no way out and nowhere to go.On the table in front of them is an hourglass with the sand running out and underneath that is a note...You’ve been given a moment in time, an opportunity few get, to right the wrongs of actions past. You have twenty-four hours until your return. Use it wisely.OR the one where Harry and Louis used to be together, until they weren’t, but with a twist of fate and a bit of magic, could this be their chance to find forever in each other’s arms?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 195
Collections: 1d Breakup Fic Fest





	1. The Blinding Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and thanks for dropping by to check out my little story, I hope you like it.
> 
> I'm so happy with how this story evolved but as it's my first break-up fic I may have overcompensated on the happy ending aspect ;) Hopefully you enjoy the ride and forgive my heaping dose of toothing rotting fluff as it reaches the conclusion.
> 
> This fic has elements of canon as a foundation, but really just so far as to establish that they are in One Direction and obviously incorporating the final OTRA show in Sheffield as a bookend plot device. At its core, this is a love story and focuses on the relationship, the rest is just staging.
> 
> This fic was written for the [1D BreakUp Fic Fest](https://1dbreakupfest.tumblr.com/). Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/1dbreakupfest/profile/)!
> 
> The commissioned cover artwork for this fic was created by the immensely talented Sara (aka kilachu). Please go and show them some love on [ Tumblr ](https://kilachuart.tumblr.com/) and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/kilachu/).
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [ Lynda](https://wait4ever.tumblr.com/) for being such a wonderful supporter!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome - they make me so happy and I appreciate them greatly. xx

The crowd roars around them, deafening and electric, surging and receding as one. Neon lights from glow sticks and headbands, signs of all shapes and colours, and bright phone lights are dotted amongst the sea of concert goers, painting a vibrant patchwork laid out before them.

It’s a familiar scene, one Louis and the boys have witnessed hundreds of times before in theatres and arenas and stadiums all over the world, but this one has special meaning. This is it. The last time, the final show, the end of an era, the one that will go down in history: OTRA Sheffield, October 31, 2015.

It’s been a long road, one that’s both dragged out and sped past at the same time. So many memories, so many highs and lows, so many faces and places. Things remembered and forgotten, opportunities grasped onto and others that have slipped through their fingers like dust. Cities visited but not explored, songs written but not released, celebrity parties attended but family events skipped, so many acquaintances but so few true friends.

Tonight they’ve all danced around like idiots, relished singing their favourite songs for one last time, and been cheered along by the audience, and their family and friends, all here to witness the final show, the final note, the final bow. Louis almost doesn’t want it to end even though he knows it has to. There are drinks to be drunk, celebrations to be had, and a hiatus to start.

He’s tired, is the thing, been tired for years it seems, too tired for someone who has barely stepped into adulthood. He needs to get away and chill for a while, needs a break from the relentless schedule, the demands, the early calls, the jet lag, and the close quarters with his bandmates. Well, one in particular.

He loves Niall and Liam like brothers, annoying ones to be sure, but brothers nonetheless. They’ve supported each other through this wild ride, from that first day when the band was formed right through to the backstage huddle before they bounded into the bright lights only a couple of hours ago. But if their relationships are brotherly in nature, his and Harry’s is the polar opposite.

How does that trope go? Friends to lovers to enemies? That might be a slight exaggeration, well, the enemies bit anyway. It’s not that they hate each other, at least Louis doesn’t hate Harry, not really, hate is a strong word after all, and he hopes Harry doesn’t feel that way about him either. They’ve always been passionate, over the top, intense. From that very first day they were inseparable, constantly having to be next to each other, grounding, protecting; inside jokes and thoughts shared with a single glance, a single touch.

Their close friendship was a selling point in the beginning, the media cottoning on quickly that everything One Direction was a viral sensation. But once their relationship developed into something more, it became intrusive and limiting. They never went public with it, choosing to try and keep that aspect of their lives somewhat private, but the media was insatiable so it was a constant battle. They tried to limit their contact while in the public eye, to distance themselves more, new choreography on stage to avoid being in close proximity, different seating orders in interviews, and separate travel arrangements, but that only seemed to inflame the situation and the media’s interest. 

It wore them down eventually, once practically inseparable like two peas in a pod, finishing each other’s sentences, causing mischief and chaos backstage, the best of friends, the most passionate of lovers, things strained to the point of no return. 

In the end, their breakup was more of a long goodbye rather than a fiery inferno and Louis could never work out how to navigate back to being just friends when, in truth, they were always more than that right from their first meeting.

Now they avoid each other for the most part and try not to be alone together; different dressing rooms, hotels, flights. It’s not that difficult to arrange but Louis desperately wants it all not to be a factor in everything he does, to not have to always think about where Harry is or what he’s doing or worried that they’re going to be thrust into those situations every day, or ever again, actually. One more night and then it’s over. One more night and they can go their separate ways. Well, one more night and then a press tour for Made In The A.M, but he’ll worry about that later.

Harry nails his final solo in Drag Me Down and the last few bars of the song blast out into the arena. The last song. Wow. That’s really it. They’re done. A wave of emotion mixes with the adrenaline coursing through Louis’ bloodstream. Sadness, elation, relief, excitement. It’s almost too much to process. 

The noise from the crowd is at deafening levels as Louis hands his mic stand to one of the techs in front of the B Stage and starts his rounds, raising his hands up and applauding the audience, blowing them kisses along the way. They’ve earned it. They truly have the most dedicated fanbase and Louis wishes he could thank everyone single one of them individually, but for now this will have to do.

He turns to find Liam walking toward him and he waves him over for a hug. Liam wraps him in his strong arms and they sway from side to side, sweaty and jubilant as Louis slaps him on the back and catches a glimpse of Harry and Niall locked in a similar embrace across the stage.

“Can’t believe we did it!” Louis shouts above the chaos. 

“I know, man. It’s crazy!” Liam says, words almost lost in the din that has engulfed the arena.

Louis pulls away just in time for Niall to dive in and replace Liam, the Irishman bouncing on his heels and jostling Louis about.

Louis’ face is nearly splitting in two as he yells into Niall’s ear. “Get in, lad!”

“Fuck, Lou! It’s over. I need a drink,” Niall shouts, as Louis glances over Niall’s shoulder and sees Harry and Liam sharing a tight hug a few meters away.

Louis knows what comes next and a sinking feeling settles in his gut. He  _ knows _ what all the fans want, what they want more than anything, but he can’t give it to them. They want closure, to see them all happy, but he and Harry just don’t do that anymore. 

He releases Niall with a final slap on his back and takes a step away just as Harry and Liam break apart. Harry’s eyes find his own and for the briefest moment, he’s sure he sees something hiding underneath. A tinge of longing perhaps? Or maybe it’s regret? Not that it matters anyway.

He holds Harry’s gaze, unwavering as he takes another step, moving forward ready to bypass him and deploy their well-practised avoidance tactics. He goes to take his next step but his feet are suddenly glued to the ground, a tingling sensation sparking his nerve endings from the back of his neck to the tips of his toes, like a rush of electricity surging through his body. The roaring of the crowd drifts into the background as his ears are filled with static noise. He tries to cry out, afraid and uncertain of what is happening. Harry’s eyes reflect the same fear and he seems frozen on the spot just like Louis. 

An almighty clap of thunder.

A blinding white light.

Louis is falling.

Blackness.


	2. The Hourglass

Louis squints his eyes open and turns his head, the dim light from a fireplace casting ominous shadows over the stone-clad space as he tries to orientate himself.

His nerve endings are buzzing, like the aftermath of an electric shock, senses dulled as he attempts to claw his way to the surface of his consciousness and fathom what the hell is going on.

He shifts, limbs heavy on the… he turns his head a little more… couch, right. Why is he on a couch in some place he doesn’t recognize? Did he get that drunk after the last show that he blacked out? He searches his memory but draws a blank. 

Swinging his legs over the side he sits up, planting his feet on the rug and narrowly avoiding the coffee table placed snugly between the couch and the fireplace.

He scrubs his hands down his face and realises he has no headache, tongue darting out to wet his lips. No cotton mouth either. This is either the best hangover of his life or something else is-

“So you’re awake then,” a deep drawling voice says from behind him, as familiar to his ears as his own.

Louis jumps up and spins around in fright, nearly toppling over on his unsteady legs. “Fuck! Don’t  _ do _ that. You scared the shit out of me!”

Harry chuckles from his spot at a small table across the other side of the small room. “If you think that was scary then you're in for an interesting next few minutes,” he says with a wry smile.

“What the hell? What the fuck did you do? Where are we?” Louis shrieks, throwing his arms out and wincing as his muscles protest at his sudden movement.

Harry reclines, ankle propped on his knee and arm draped over the back of the dining chair at the rickety-looking table. “Kinda hoped you might have some answers on that front.”

“Why would I-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry cuts him off with a shake of his head. “We’re in… well… we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Louis rounds the couch and closes the short distance, managing to make it to the table before his legs give out and he has to slump down into the chair opposite Harry. “What do you  _ mean _ we’re in the middle of nowhere? Spell it out, Styles.”

Harry looks over at him, long tendrils of hair falling over his shoulders in that perfect way Louis has always loved so much. “It’s like… a tower or a fortress or some shit in the middle of a raging ocean,” he says with a shrug. “Can’t see land but it’s dark so maybe it’s there, just hidden.”

“What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about?” Louis shouts, slamming his hands on the tabletop and feeling the regrettable sting on his palms. 

“It’s… oh!” Harry’s eyes widen, something like excitement blooming on his stupidly handsome face. “It’s like, you know, in the first Harry Potter movie when Harry’s shitty family try and get away from all the Hogwarts letters and Hagrid finds them and brings a birthday cake for Harry and that asshole kid, what's his name-“

“Dudley,” Louis offers helpfully.

“Yeah! Dudley. Hagrid gives Dudley a pigs tail.”

“We’re in a Harry Potter film?” Louis asks incredulously.

“No, you idiot. I’m saying this place is  _ like _ that.”

“I don’t believe you,” Louis says defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Go and see for yourself then,” Harry mutters and waves a hand toward the large wooden door on the opposite side of the room.

“Fine. I will.”

Louis stands and strides over to the door, his limbs finally getting with the program. He grips the doorknob, glancing back over his shoulder at Harry who is just watching him, a smug smile fixed firmly in place.

“Careful,” Harry warns.

Louis huffs out a breath. “Whatever.”

He opens the door and is hit with a wild wind tinged with salt, the sound hitting him like a wall, forcing him to step back. He steadies himself and looks out to find a raging sea below him, waves crashing thunderously on the rocks atop which the tower sits and no other land in sight. It’s ridiculous and overwhelming and Louis doesn’t need to see any more so he steps back and closes the door. He leans forward and thumps his head against the heavy wood as he tries to process what’s going on but it’s no use, there’s absolutely no reasonable explanation for anything that’s happening right now.

Turning back to Harry, he’s met with the same all-knowing expression. “Satisfied?”

“What  _ are _ you on about? We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean, you twat,” Louis says flinging his arms out the side in exasperation.

“Mhmmm... It’s kinda cool and kinda terrifying at the same time.”

“It’s the least cool thing ever,” Louis retorts and stomps back to the table, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Harry just watches him silently and Louis wishes he’d wake from what is clearly the stupidest dream of his life so his hangover can kick in properly. He stretches his legs under the table and brushes against Harry’s shin. “Ugh,” he groans as his knees crack. He feels shattered, like he’s run a marathon.

“Yeah. That’ll go away in a bit.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“‘Bout an hour, give or take. Felt like I was hit by a truck. Must be whatever happened when we were transported here.”

“Transported?” Louis asks in disbelief.

Harry nods and tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Louis thinks hard, brows furrowing as he pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. Everything is fuzzy and feels far away like he can’t quite reach the memories even though he knows they’re there. “Uhm… oh yeah!” He says with a snap of his fingers. “We were on stage. Sheffield. Final show and we-“

“We were about to avoid each other. Then there was a-“

“Blinding light.” Louis finishes for him. They sit and stare at each other, time ticking by like the sands of a- “What the fuck is that?” Louis asks, pointing at what looks suspiciously like an hourglass, crystal blue sand draining slowly through its narrow neck. How did he not notice it before?

“It’s a Range Rover,” Harry deadpans and then rolls his eyes. “What the hell do you think it is? Here,” he says sliding a piece of paper across the table. “This was underneath.”

Louis picks up the paper, more like parchment he realises now that he’s holding it in his hand, cursive strokes in black ink forming words on the page.

He reads it to himself.

_ You’ve been given a moment in time, an opportunity few get, to right the wrongs of actions past. You have twenty-four hours until your return. Use it wisely. _

Twenty-four hours, Louis repeats in his head. This is already the longest conversation he’s had with Harry in years and the prospect of spending that amount of time alone with him is making his skin crawl at the same time as the once ever-present butterflies take flight in his stomach. “What does it mean?”

Harry leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “I think it’s fairly self-explanatory, Lou.”

“Really? Care to share with the class?”

“Well, for some reason, the universe thinks we need a second shot at something. Us, I’m presuming.”

Louis frowns. “Us?”

“Yeah.  _ Us _ .”

“What makes you think  _ we _ need a second chance. As I recall you were pretty happy when we split-“

“No. No no no,” Harry says shaking his head. “You don’t get to do that. Not now. I might’ve been the one to put the final nail in the coffin of our relationship but it takes two to tango, Lou. You were an active participant in our demise so I’m not gonna let you opt-out of taking responsibility for what happened. I’m done with being your fall guy. I don’t deserve that and you bloody well know it.”

Louis gapes at him, unused to hearing Harry speak so many words in quick succession and on a topic that has previously been taboo.

It had been a night like so many others. Exhausted from long days and nights on the road. Arena after arena, hotel rooms and airports, hurried from interview to interview, fans, tabloids, recording in the back of a van, everything blurring into the whirlwind that was their lives back then. He and Harry had tried to snatch moments for themselves, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

Theirs hadn’t been an easy road. Stress and strain evident in their sharp tongues and biting comments. Arguing. So much arguing. Taking out their frustrations at each other’s expense before falling into bed and letting their bodies say the apologies their words couldn’t convey.

Louis had clung to it like a man lost in the wilderness with Harry his only beacon of hope. But it was never going to last. They’d held on too tight and it was only a matter of time.

Louis had come into their hotel room, buzzing from the drinks he’d had after yet another back-of-a-van recording session, to find Harry sitting on the end of their bed. After the show, Harry had told him he wanted to talk and Louis had promised him he’d come straight back to their room. But Louis hadn’t wanted to talk. Didn’t want things to change. Why couldn’t Harry just be satisfied with the way things were, as fucked up as they might have seemed to an outsider? Why couldn’t he just leave it be? The tour would be ending in a month and then they could escape to somewhere warm, or cold, anywhere really, just away, just the two of them, to recharge their batteries.

So he’d gone for a quick drink with Niall in the hotel bar but one drink had led to two and then three and before he knew it it was nearly sunrise. 

Harry had looked up at him as he’d come in, tired but ready for a fight. Another one. The  _ same _ one that they’d been having forever. It had sparked anger in Louis’ bloodstream, just like it always did, and he’d nearly walked back out. In retrospect, that’s probably what he should’ve done, at least until he’d calmed down, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d stomped over to the minibar to get another drink. 

When Louis had turned around, an air of defiance emanating off him, Harry had sighed, all the fight visibly draining from his body. He seemed tired, downtrodden, almost forlorn, but with a hint of frustration peeking out from under his facade.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Harry had said.

Louis had scoffed indignantly. “What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?”

Harry had crossed his arms over his chest and Louis had been ready to launch at him. “I mean- 

“Spit it out. Go on,” Louis had snapped back before taking a large sip of his drink.

Harry had looked at him, eyes filled with a rage Louis had rarely seen. “Fine,” Harry had spat out. “I don’t want this, us, anymore. I love you but it’s too hard and I’m fucking exhausted.”

Louis had recoiled slightly, shocked at Harry’s blunt statement. “So you’re just giving up without a fight? Do I mean that little to you?”

“I’ve  _ been _ fighting… for years, Lou. But it feels like I’m in this on my own half the time. Maybe down the track-“

“Don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Alright then. If that’s the way you want it.”

“It’s not  _ me _ wanting this. This is all on you, Harry.”

Harry had furrowed his brows. “That’s not fair-“

“Fair?! Who are you to say what’s fair, Haz? You’re the one saying you don’t want to fight for us anymore. You’re the one giving up.”

“I don’t want to fight, period.  _ For _ us,  _ with _ you, none of it. I’m done.”

And with that, Harry had stood up, grabbed his bags, and left without so much as a glance back at the life he was leaving behind.

The conversation had been short, too short really for what they’d been through together but the words are imprinted on Louis’ brain and forever indelibly carved into his heart.

After that, things had been strained, uncomfortable. Niall and Liam had been devastated, of course, and it introduced an awkwardness and unease between them all behind the scenes and on the stage. Everyone noticed, everyone knew, but it was rarely discussed openly. Their teams just worked around it. Scheduling interviews and travel and accommodation and writing and recording sessions so as to limit their contact. It was considerate and helped to keep things moving forwards with the least friction but it irked Louis nonetheless. It got further under his skin with each adjustment he witnessed and instead of doing something about it, instead of being mature and addressing it head-on and trying to salvage a friendship with Harry, or at least a friendly working relationship, Louis had retreated and let it spiral to the point where he and Harry could barely be in each other’s presence.

What is that they say about there being a fine line between love and hate? Yeah, well, Louis wouldn’t say he ever got to the stage of hating Harry, but it was a close call. In truth, his anger at Harry paled in comparison to the anger he felt towards himself. Louis  _ hadn’t _ fought for them. He  _ had _ given up. And he was just as much to blame for how things had ended. 

And now here they are, at the mercy of some cruel twist of fate, stuck together, alone,  _ to right the wrongs of actions past _ . 

Louis glares back at Harry and slaps the parchment on the table. “God, you’re so annoying,” Louis says but even as the words slide off his tongue they don’t feel right. “I need a fucking drink.”

“Yeah. Alright,” Harry says as he stands, the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden floor. He pads over to a small cupboard, mounted on the wall near the sink, and returns with a bottle of what appears to be wine and a couple of glasses. 

“What if it’s poisoned?” Louis asks sceptically.

Harry rolls his eyes and sets the bottle and glasses on the table as he sits back down. “I hardly think the universe is going to go to all this trouble just to kill us.”

Louis watches as he fills their glasses, glancing over to the hourglass, the blue crystal sand falling with an even speed that he finds mesmerizing. “How long have we got left?”

Harry shrugs and pushes Louis’ glass towards him. “It’d already started flowing by the time I woke up and I don’t know how long I was out for. So maybe twenty hours or something?”

Louis takes a tentative sip and lets the liquid settle on his tongue. Wine. He could do with something stronger given the circumstances but this will have to do. “Any other treats back there?” Louis asks, motioning with a nod of his head toward the cupboard.

“Some bread and cheese and dried fruit. More wine.”

Louis hums in acknowledgment before taking a larger swig of his drink. “So what do you reckon all this is about?”

Harry sets his glass down, twirling it between his fingertips as his brows furrow at Louis’ question. “Uhm… I don’t know really. Thought I was dreaming at first. But that idea faded quickly when nothing I did would wake me up. Figured I’d gone too hard at the after party or something because I couldn’t remember how I got here and then I saw you, and you were dead to the world, couldn't wake you up, which freaked me out a bit. I opened the door and looked outside and panicked for a full five minutes. Ran around like an idiot until I found the hourglass and the note. I mean it’s crazy, right? Us here. Wherever here is. And we seem to be safe, like, we’re not in pain, there are no monsters-“

“Not that we’ve seen,” Louis says with a smirk and Harry chuckles. It’s nice. Familiar. He hasn’t made Harry laugh in a long time and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

“True, no monsters that we’ve seen. But other than being stuck here, we don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. So I don’t know… we could just... go with it?”

Louis quirks a brow at Harry’s suggestion. “Go with it?”

“Yeah, uhm… something, the universe or whatever, has certainly gone to a lot of trouble to give us this opportunity to, like, right the wrongs we’ve done against each other, so maybe we should at least try?”

Harry looks hopeful, even though it’s tinged with nervousness, eyes wide, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Louis is so used to seeing his confident stage persona that it’s a lot to take in.

“But what if it isn’t about us?”

“What else could it be? It’s just the two of us here,” Harry states like it’s the only possible answer, and maybe it is.

He considers Harry’s words, draining the last of his wine and pushing it toward Harry with a nod for him to replenish it before Harry slides it back to him, full to the brim. Louis takes another sip as he mulls over what to say next. “I never believed in magic or whatever this is.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, me neither. Kinda hard to dismiss it now though.”

“Mmmm… alright. Let’s assume for a minute that this is really happening and it’s not some bizarre fever dream. What do we do?”

“Well,” Harry says as he refills his own glass. “We talk, I guess. Try and work out what went wrong, and like, fix it?”

“Fix it?”

“Us. Fix us.”

Louis sucks in a lungful of air and lets the implications of Harry’s statement settle in his bones. “Are we… do you think we’re fixable?”

Harry’s eyes dart up from where they’ve been trained on his glass. He looks hurt, wounded by Louis’ words and the inference that they’re beyond repair. “Of course we are. I mean. I think so. You don’t?”

“I dunno, Haz. It was… well, it wasn’t good, at the end.”

“Yeah, I know. But if it’d been good, we wouldn’t have broken up and there were a lot of other factors. The tours, being on the road all the time, the media, the scrutiny, the time apart, the craziness of it all, having people in our business every moment of the day. Handlers, security, the crowds everywhere we go. But that’s all going to be different soon.”

“It's gonna be the same for a while though.”

“Agreed. But now there’s an end in sight, you know? Like, we only have to get through the next round of promo, a couple of months, and then we’re done.”

Louis reaches over for the bottle and tops his glass up while he thinks. It’s not that there was ever anything bad that happened between them; no wandering eyes or hands, no moral differences, nothing that brought it to a head. In the end, they were just tired. Tired of the situation and tired of trying to make it work under such trying circumstances.

“Would you… would you want to?” Louis ventures, suddenly keenly interested in Harry’s response.

Harry sets his glass down and regards Louis curiously. “Try again?”

“Yeah. Like, and don’t get snippy with me,” Louis says, putting his hands up in defence. “But like, you  _ were _ the one that ended it, even though I will admit you were just the one who had the guts to say something. I guess what I’m wondering is whether there were other things going on too, for you?”

Harry frowns, tilting his head to the side. “No. I don’t think so. I was just so tired, Lou. Tired of everything and tired of fighting with you over nothing all the time. It felt toxic. I thought… I guess I thought if I ended it then that maybe, someday, we’d have a chance to start over. That we wouldn’t have done irreparable damage. These last years have been… well they’ve been really hard.”

“They have. I hated not being able to talk to you. You were my best friend, Haz,” Louis says softly, surprising even himself with his honesty.

Harry’s eyes light up at that, a smile blossoming on his face. It’s the first time that's been directed at Louis in what seems like forever and Louis’ heart clenches in response.

“You were mine too and I’ve… I’ve missed you. I’ve missed what we had.”

Louis takes another sip of his wine, swirling the dregs and watching them in the bottom of the glass. He chuckles to himself. “Do you think there’s truth serum in this or something?”

Harry honks out a laugh and Louis’ face breaks into a broad smile. God, he’s missed that sound.

“Maybe? Whatever is going on it’s definitely working.”

“Wanna grab another bottle and head to the lounge?”

Harry nods eagerly and is out of his chair before Louis can say anything else. Louis gets to his feet, collecting their glasses and settling himself in front of the fire. Harry joins him, setting down the new bottle and a wooden board with the bread and cheese and fruits he’d mentioned. The fire seems to be able to manage itself without interference, flames licking at the logs which don’t appear to ever burn down.

They eat and drink in companionable silence as Louis mulls over what has transpired between them. It’s easy here with just the two of them, their troubled past seemingly so far away. But there are still things they need to talk about. Communication, or lack thereof, was definitely an issue back when they were together and even though Louis is seriously considering a future that has Harry in it, he isn’t sure what shape that future might take.

“So… us. Let’s talk,” Louis says and swivels around on the couch to face Harry, one foot tucked under his knee, arm draped across the backrest. Harry mirrors his position, relaxed and open.

The next few hours are spent rehashing their past, both their friendship and their romantic relationship. The second and third bottles of wine follow the same as the first, albeit at a more leisurely pace as they talk freely about anything and everything. Louis hadn’t realized how much of Harry’s life he’d missed out on and going by Harry’s reactions, he’s just as surprised at how much distance they’d managed to put between them.

It’s not all serious, of course, their easy banter quickly returning like they’d never skipped a beat. The flirting is back too; glances here, and small touches there, mixed with innuendos and private jokes that haven’t seen the light of day in years. 

By the time their conversations are more yawns than words, the sand in the hourglass is halfway through, and Louis is regretting every day between their breakup now. Harry is so kind and funny and insightful and caring and he listens, really listens when Louis speaks, as though he’s imprinting every word onto his soul. Past Louis has a lot of fucking explaining to do for letting this amazing man slip through his fingers. But maybe there is something to what Harry had said. Maybe they just weren’t in the right head-space back then and he was right to end it, to give them a breather, so they could find each other again when they were ready. Or, more correctly given their current situation, when the universe deemed the time was ripe for them to get their heads out of their arses.

“Lou?”

Louis startles, unaware that he was drifting off. “Shit. Sorry, Haz.” Harry is massaging his feet as they lay in his lap. He’s always been good with his hands and Louis had missed being pampered like this.

“Did you wanna lay down?”

Louis gives the tiny two-seater couch they’re on a once over. “Not sure there’s enough room for that.”

“Up!” Harry instructs, tapping on Louis’ ankles.

Louis drags himself up and Harry jumps to his feet, far too energetically for Louis’ liking. He drags the coffee table off to the side and then dismantles the couch, cushion by cushion, laying them out on the rug in front of the fire in place of pillows. Louis is about to flop down onto the floor when Harry wanders off in the direction of the cupboard, returning with two soft looking blankets.

“Is that cupboard like a Mary Poppins carpet bag?”

Harry chuckles and lays the thicker blanket out on the rug. “Come on. Time for rest,” he says, laying down and stretching out his arm invitingly, patting the spot next to him.

“So we’re just taking up from where we left off then?” Louis asks, hands on his hips and looking over Harry. It’s not that he’s opposed to cuddling up and getting some sleep but he needs to understand what their deal is. Are they friends? Boyfriends? What are Harry’s expectations? The conversation has been good but he’s not about to jump back into things if he doesn’t know where they stand. He knows what he wants, at least he thinks he does, but he needs to hear it from Harry too.

Harry sighs and pushes himself up. “Sit.”

Louis does as he’s told and eases down onto the blanket, crossing his legs and taking Harry’s hands in his, looking up into his eyes. “What are we, Haz? Where are we going?”

“I… well, I think…” Harry starts but trails off, eyes dropping to look at their joined hands.

“Hey,” Louis says, rubbing his thumbs over Harry’s knuckles. “It’s okay, you know. You can say anything. I won’t be angry and I won’t judge you. If you just wanna be friends then that’s totally fine. I’d just be glad to have you back in my life… properly.”

And the thing is, he truly means it. He’s missed Harry terribly, like there was a gaping hole in his heart where their friendship used to be. Before they fell for each other, before they were boyfriends, they were best mates. In the strange circumstances they’d found themselves since they were teenagers, true friends who could understand their crazy lives were hard to come by so the loss had been painful for Louis, and he suspects for Harry too. So if friendship is what’s on offer, then Louis will grab onto it with both hands and be eternally grateful, even if his heart wants more.

Harry lifts his head and fixes Louis with an intense gaze. “What if I want more than that?”

Louis smiles and his stomach does a little swoop. “Then that's fine too.  _ Is _ that what you want?”

“Is that what  _ you _ want?” Harry counters.

Louis grins at him, a warmth flooding his chest. “This could go on all night.”

Harry rolls his eyes before fixing Louis with an intense stare, looking deep into the depths of Louis’ soul. “It’s what I want.”

“Then yes, it’s what I want too.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Harry murmurs and leans in, pausing not more than an inch from Louis’ mouth. “Can I?”

Louis closes the distance, pressing their lips together, and it’s like all the pieces of his life suddenly click into place, like this was the one thing missing, like he’s finally come home after wandering in the wilderness for so long.

Harry releases their hands and cups Louis’ jaw, tilting his head and seeking entrance in a way that Louis had feared he’d never get to feel again. He opens up easily, always so easy for this man, this glorious man that he’s loved since he was eighteen and Harry was sixteen, when they were both so lost and unsure of themselves until they’d found solace in each other’s arms. 

Harry pulls him down, laying him out on the blanket and sliding his leg between Louis’, hovering over him as he deepens the kiss with such familiarity that it makes Louis’ heart sing. The fire is providing warmth from the outside, but his love for Harry is heating him from within, burning, smouldering. He’s hit with the realization that he’s never stopped loving him, even when they were apart, not really. A love like theirs is one for the ages, strong and sure, no matter what impediments life has thrown in the way, and apparently the universe agrees. 

Louis claws at Harry’s back, desperate to feel him closer, to hold him tighter. He tugs at Harry’s shirt. “Off! Fucking off, now.”

Harry chuckles into his mouth and breaks their kiss to remove the offending item, Louis practically ripping it off his body in an attempt to speed up the process. He pushes at Harry’s chest to make room for him to dispense with his own shirt before dragging Harry back on top of him. The feeling of skin on skin settles something in his chest, a calm washing over him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. But there’s an urgency too, bubbling up inside, an insatiable need that only Harry can satisfy. It’s only ever been Harry for him, that’s now blatantly obvious, and he doesn’t understand how he’s been able to go so long without having his hands on him, without being close to him, without his lips, his breath, his touch. 

“Fuck, Lou. Want you so bad,” Harry growls and removes his leg from between Louis’, shoving Louis’ pants and briefs halfway down his thighs in one motion. The warm air caresses Louis’ cock and if Harry doesn’t do something in the next five seconds he fears he might combust.

Thankfully, for Louis, Harry doesn’t seem to want to take things slowly either and in the blink of an eye he has his dick out and his huge hand wrapped around them both. 

Louis surges up, abs straining and latches onto Harry’s neck, sucking and biting as he buries his hands in Harry’s hair, tugging harshly and eliciting a sinful moan from his lips.

“Thought we’d never get to do this again,” Louis pants out as he makes his way over Harry’s Adam’s apple and up to his earlobe, nipping and licking, tasting his salty skin. “Thought I’d have to live off memories for the rest of forever.”

“Yeah, baby,” Harry murmurs as he frantically strips their cocks, twisting on the upstroke under the crowns. “You got off thinking about us together?” 

“Mhmmm… more than I’d like to admit,” Louis brazenly admits.

“Fuck, me too. Me too. Used to think about you, being inside you, filling you up, slamming into you, making you cry out and come on my cock.”

Louis writhes underneath him, Harry’s filthy words sending arousal shooting through his veins. He bucks up into Harry’s fist as sweat beads at his temples. “God, I’m close, Haz. Wanna come,  _ please _ .”

Harry looks down at him, hunger in his eyes, pupils blown. He’s so gorgeous like this; animalistic and raw and Louis wants to devour him. He cranes his neck up and seals their lips together, tongues roaming and teeth clashing. It’s messy and rough and Louis can't get enough. Louis sucks Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth but Harry just goes with him, pushing him down onto the blanket and regaining control, diving in deeper and deeper, hot breath passing between them.

Louis’ orgasm hits him out of nowhere and he arches his back as he spills over Harry’s hand and his own chest. “Ohmy _ god _ ! Yes! Fuck yes!”

Harry pumps him through it, chasing his own release as Louis’ vision whites out, blood rushing in his ears, body trembling and nerve endings buzzing. He wants this feeling to last forever, to never come down from this high. 

Louis feels Harry tense, a moan reverberating in his chest and transferring into Louis’ body. He opens his eyes, not wanting to miss it and watches as Harry keens high in his throat, neck elongated and then he’s coming too. “ _ Fuck _ ! Fuckfuckfuck!”

Harry slumps down onto Louis’ chest, hand still wrapped around them both and a sticky mess between them. It’s really quite disgusting but Louis could honestly care less.

Harry’s body shudders, jostling Louis about and at first Louis thinks he’s crying but the giggle that bursts from Harry's mouth puts paid to that.

“What’s so goddamn funny?” Louis asks with a smirk as his breathing starts to return to normal.

“This. Us. Everything,” Harry manages to get out between pants. Louis shoves him off and Harry rolls onto his side, his laughter bubbling up and bursting from his mouth. 

Louis prods him in the ribs and Harry grabs his hand, pulling Louis on top of him with his stupidly strong muscles. Although he must admit, he’s kinda missed being manhandled, not that he’d ever tell Harry, he’d never hear the end of it.

Louis props his chin on his hands and glares down at him as best he can while holding back his own laughter. “So you think this is just  _ hilarious _ then?” Louis asks haughtily. 

“I mean…” Harry drawls out, mischief painted on his face as the firelight dances in his eyes. “It  _ is _ kinda ridiculous. We were literally whisked off the stage in Sheffield, transported to another dimension or whatever the fuck this place is, all because the universe decided we screwed up and should actually be together.”

Louis lets a beat pass, and then another, but that’s all he can manage before a flood of giggles bursts out of him too.

Harry eventually flips him over and kisses him senseless until he can hardly remember what he thought was so funny. They eventually take a break, long enough for Harry to find a cloth to clean them both up, and they settle on their sides under the blanket. 

Louis caresses Harry’s cheek, looking into the eyes that he’s avoided making contact with for far too long. “I’ve missed you so much, Haz.”

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, pursing his lips as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. His resolve melts away though and then he utters the three words Louis thought he would never hear again.

“I love you.”

Louis just grins at him. This is right. This is everything. This is who he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. “I love you too, babe. So much.”

Harry beams back at him. “You know… ‘m gonna marry the fuck outta you one day.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmm... Put a ring on it. Make you mine.”

“Not if I marry you first,” Louis sing-songs.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Harry says, aghast, but there’s only joyful teasing behind it.

“Guess we’ll have to see then won’t we?”

“Yeah,” Harry says and yawns right in Louis’ face.

“Sleep?” Louis suggests and pokes Harry in the spot where his dimple usually is, earning an adorably grumpy face in return. 

“Yeah, alright. Sleep time.”

Harry rolls over, pulling at Louis’ arm until he slots up against his back to spoon him, just like they always used to.

~~*~~

Louis wakes with a start. Disoriented for a brief moment until it all comes flooding back, helped by the beautiful man in his arms whose curls are tickling his nose.

Harry pulls Louis’ arm tighter around his waist, threading their fingers together and sighs happily, craning his neck and puckering up for a kiss. Louis couldn’t resist him even if he wanted to, and he definitely doesn’t want to.

Harry turns over in Louis’ embrace. “So, you’re still in love with me then?”

“Don’t think I ever stopped, to be honest.”

“Even when you hated me?” Harry ventures, looking uncertain of himself and that simply won’t do. 

“Nah. Never hated you. I was angry for a while, at you, then at myself, and then I think I was just sad. Deep down though, I don’t think the love I felt for you could have ever gone away.”

“You’re quite the sap, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Right back at you, Harry Styles,” Louis replies and snuggles into Harry’s warm chest, breathing him in, memories flooding back of nights spent in each other’s arms hidden away from the world. Safety. Belonging. Peace.

“How long do you think we were asleep?” Harry asks as he rubs circles on Louis’ back.

“Not sure. We can check the hourglass soon,” Louis says and pulls back so he can see Harry’s reaction to his next question. “Any thoughts on what we tell people when we get back?”

“Uhm… I guess we just say that we've been working on our friendship, putting the past behind us, letting bygones be bygones and all of that, and that it led to us rekindling our relationship.”

Louis grins. “The boys aren’t gonna believe that for a second.”

“Well, they won’t have any choice if we stick to it. Besides, what’s the alternative? Tell them what  _ really _ happened?”

“True, true,” Louis chuckles and leans in for a kiss because Harry’s lips are too tempting now that he’s gotten used to the feel of them against his own once again. He tucks his head under Harry’s chin, feeling his chest rise and fall. “Are you worried?”

“About what?”

“About what happens when we go back?”

“Not really. I dunno. But we’ll be fine. Hey,” Harry says and noses at Louis’ cheek. Louis looks up to find Harry gazing down at him, a crease between his brows. “We’re gonna be okay. You and me. This is real. Forever. I’m not letting you go again.”

“I’m never letting you go either. You're it for me,” Louis says with a truthfulness he’s starting to become accustomed to.

Harry leans in and seals their lips together; lazy kisses never turning heated, just enjoying the feeling of reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies.

The call of nature and rumbling stomachs finally win out and they begrudgingly leave their little love nest. The hourglass is almost run through, so they’ve slept longer than they thought. They sit down at the table and finish off the bread and cheese and fruit as they talk about their future together, easily agreeing that neither of them wants to spend another night apart. They’ll finish out the promo for the new album and then look for a place of their own, somewhere far away from the spotlight.

The sands are running scarily low now, probably less than a few minutes left before their time is up. Louis stares at the hourglass, the blue crystals dropping too fast and not fast enough at the same time. He wants, so desperately wants, to stay here with Harry for just a little longer in this bubble of safety, cocooned and wrapped in each other, protected from whatever fate awaits them when they return. He knows it’s not going to be all plain sailing, there will be hurdles, they’re both keenly aware of that. But if they can just hold onto each other, ground each other, trust each other, he knows they can get through it all. They’re meant to be together, this much the universe has been intent on convincing them and has gone to great lengths to do just that. And it’s worked. Louis is more sure of this than anything else in his life. Louis and Harry. Harry and Louis. He’ll fight for it, for them, until his final breath.

Harry squeezes his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Lou. We’re going to be okay.”

“But what if we don’t remember? What if this was all for nothing?” Louis is panicking now, watching the sand rush through the neck of the glass. 

Harry reaches over and tilts Louis’ chin up with his fingers. “Hey. Just focus on me,” he says calmly, a soft expression on his face. Louis feels the tension and stress seep from his body as Harry smiles at him. “I love you. More than anything in the whole world and nothing, absolutely  _ nothing _ is going to take that away.”

Louis sucks in a breath and presses into Harry’s palm as he caresses his cheek. “I’m just scared. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, baby. You’ll never lose me. You’re stuck with me for life.”

Louis' eyes dart down to the hourglass and there are mere seconds left. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” Harry says and takes both of Louis’ hands in his own. “We’ve got this.”

Their eyes lock, grips tightening. “I love you,” Louis whispers and then they’re frozen. The room spins around them, walls disappearing, the raging ocean stilled.

An almighty clap of thunder.

A blinding white light.

Louis is falling.

Blackness.

~~*~~

Louis slams back into his body, the arena swirling around him, vision blurry, feet glued to the stage. The blood rushes in his ears as everything starts to settle but there is only one thought in his head. Harry.

He blinks to clear the fog and that’s when he sees him, standing exactly where he had been before they were whisked away. He’s looking straight back at him, a smile curling the corners of his lips and at that moment he knows. He knows that everything is going to be alright. That it was real. It wasn’t a dream. Because Harry’s smile says it all.

Louis is moving before his brain even sends the instruction to his limbs. Striding toward his future, his love, his Harry.

He catches a glimpse of Niall out of the corner of his eye as the noise of the crowd surges, but only one person has his focus, and that person is coming right for him with sheer joy written all over his face.

Louis smirks like it’s no big deal, opening his arms and giving a little flick of his wrists and a shrug of his shoulders. Harry just beams at him. 

They envelop each other, bodies moulding as one like they’re the perfect fit, which they are, of course. Harry burrows his face into the crook of Louis’ neck and they wrap each other in the tightest of embraces.

That’s when Louis hears it. The crowd goes absolutely wild. The whole arena shakes, screams blending into a single euphoric sound and erupting like a volcano.

“I love you, Lou,” Harry says into Louis’ ear.

“I love you, too. Always,” Louis replies and then breaks away from their hug to finish thanking the audience.

Louis has an extra spring in his step as he makes his way across the stage, his face nearly splitting with the force of his smile. Liam and Niall each give him a side-eye and he just winks at them. They’ll get to hear all about it soon enough, once he and Harry have worked out how to explain their suddenly renewed relationship that is, but it’ll be fine, everything will be fine. 


	3. The Castle

Louis sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles for his great lolloping ball of fur to return. Clifford looks up, head cocked to the side as though he’s completely forgotten where he is, that Louis was with him, or that he’s even a dog; sometimes Louis does wonder what goes on inside his brain. Louis shakes his head fondly and jangles his leash sparking Clifford into a gallop, ears flopping in the breeze and tongue hanging out. Louis loves him dearly, but he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. 

The foggy moor is quiet at this time of the day, just them and a few birds braving the cold, damp dawn. He was never much of a morning person when he was growing up, but being here, with all this open space and nature, has changed him. Every day holds such promise, every sunrise bringing excitement for what will unfold.

Clifford comes to a halt, wagging his tail and panting hot, steamy breaths out into the air. “Come on, Cliff. Let’s head home and see what Harry’s got cooking for breakfast,” he says and Clifford takes off toward home. Louis hurries to catch him up, the dewy grass sinking slightly beneath his feet.

He lets his mind wander back to that night in Sheffield, the night that changed everything. He remembers it with fondness and awe. Niall and Liam had bailed them up as soon as they’d gotten backstage, ushering them into Harry’s dressing room, which just so happened to be the closest lockable room, and grilling them about what had just transpired on stage.

Harry and Louis had stuck to their prepared story; that they’d recently been trying to resolve things between them in secret and working through their issues, which had the added advantage of being absolutely true. They just perhaps neglected to reveal the when and where of it happening and that a strange mystical force had been involved. Regardless, their friends were thrilled, shocked for sure, and perhaps not entirely convinced by the lack of detail in their story, but ecstatic nonetheless.

Their Made In The A.M. promo had gone surprisingly well. Fans had noticed the change with him and Harry of course—from barely acknowledging each other to joking around and being comfortable in each other’s space—and they had welcomed it with enthusiasm. They didn’t hide their newly reignited friendship, but they hadn’t flaunted their true relationship either. That was just for them.

That was nine months ago now. Nine months of pure bliss away from the spotlight, holed up in their house in the Scottish Highlands. Although,  _ house _ is probably a misleading term for where they now live. 

They’d been backstage at the Jingle Ball in LA, on the home stretch of their promo tour and with Christmas just around the corner when Harry had burst into their shared dressing room and shouted that he’d found it.  _ It _ , as it turns out, was a castle. Yeah, a fucking  _ castle _ . Rundown, and in desperate need of restoration, it was isolated and beautiful and so perfect that he and Harry had instructed their lawyers to negotiate a deal immediately. 

The castle comes into view as they reach the crest of the hill and the air is sucked from Louis’ lungs just like it always is when he sees it from a distance. The once-imposing structures have lost some of their grandeur as the years have beaten them down; weather and time the toughest of foes. But they’re making headway to return it to its full glory.

It had taken a couple of months to make one section livable; a kitchen and drawing room, two bedrooms, a bathroom and a studio. It’s more than enough for the two of them and Cliff and means they can be onsite while the rest of the work is being done.

Built in the late seventeen hundreds, the high walls topped with turrets surround a central courtyard where a grand fountain sits. The number of bedrooms and reception rooms rivals a decently-sized hotel and the secret staircases, hidden passageways, and concealed rooms will make for a children’s wonderland when they eventually start a family. 

But that’s still a ways off. For now, they’re focusing on the restoration and taking time for themselves away from the previous pace of their lives in the band. No one bothers them out here and that's just the way they like it.

It had been an odd choice perhaps, seeking out a castle made of stone reminiscent of the tower they had spent those fantastical twenty-four hours trapped in. Unusual perhaps, but to them, it seemed like the most natural thing possible. That time, taken away from the world, to find their way back to each other had changed the course of their lives for the better and anyway, it’s a fucking  _ castle _ . Who wouldn’t want to be the Lord of his own Manor?

The sound of the landscaper’s machinery travels through the still air, the team getting an early start and trying to make the most of the fine day before a storm is set to roll in later in the day. They’re in the process of digging out the lake and have been for the better part of the week, mud and silt and debris being hauled away in trucks to build up other parts of the grounds. Their project manager, Steadman, says it’ll likely be years before all the work is done, but they have the time and the money, and they’re in no hurry after all.

Louis and Cliff make their way across the courtyard, over to the renovated wing, and through the kitchen door, Harry’s dulcet tones and the smell of bacon greeting them upon entry.

He hangs up his coat and toes off his boots, grabbing the towel by the door to give Cliff a rubdown as he struggles in Louis’ hold, desperate to get to his full feed bowl.

“How’s the mud pile?” Harry asks without turning around, focused on their breakfast.

“Growing by the day,” Louis says as he comes up behind Harry and wraps his arms around his waist, burying his cold nose into his back. “Something smells delicious.”

“Thanks. It’s a new grapefruit and guava body wash,” Harry says with a smirk in his voice.

Louis pinches his hips earning a squawk. “Cheeky shit. I meant breakfast.”

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Pop the kettle on?”

Louis presses a kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades and pads over to the kettle, filling it up and readying their mugs as the morning sun breaks over the castle walls and floods their little kitchen.

Theirs is a simple and peaceful existence now, even with all the restoration works going on around them. Days spent together without the hustle and bustle of their time in the spotlight; places to be, people to see, records to make, fans to meet. Louis wouldn’t trade their past for anything though, the experiences they shared on the road, with their fans, performing in big and small venues, have all provided them with a love most can only dream of.

Louis makes their tea and takes it over to their small table, sitting down and pouring them each a glass of juice that Harry must have squeezed earlier, just like he does every morning. 

“You just missed Steadman,” Harry says as he sets Louis’ plate in front of him and slides into the seat opposite.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmmm… he reckons things are on target for the  _ funtimes wing  _ to be completed in nine months as per the schedule now that they’ve lined up the plasterers.”

The funtimes wing, as Harry has ridiculously named it, isn’t your average games room and bar. This is something else entirely. The wing houses the ballroom, conservatory, billiards room, commercial kitchen, cellar and indoor pool. Fun times indeed.

Louis chews a forkful of food and hums in acknowledgement. “That’s awesome. Things are moving along nicely.”

Harry nods as he takes a bite of toast. “Thought we could have a bit of a party to celebrate once it’s finished?”

“Yeah? I like the sound of that.”

“A reception… of sorts, maybe?” Harry poses as Clifford wanders over and sprawls himself under the table on top of their feet, always wanting to be close to them and amongst it so he doesn’t miss any opportunity for attention.

“Sure, babe. These eggs are top-notch, by the way.”

“Yeah. I thought maybe it would be a good opportunity to bring everyone together. Family, friends, and the like, to celebrate…”

Louis snorts out a laugh. “What? To celebrate us spending millions on this old pile of rocks to return it to its former glory?”

“Well, that…” Harry trails off and looks up from his plate, a hint of nervousness hiding behind his smile. “Yeah. That and maybe... us?”

“Celebrate us? Why would they-“

Louis’ words die on his tongue, his cutlery clattering onto his plate as Harry sets a black velvet ring box on the table between them. Louis stares at it, mouth agape as Harry lifts the lid and two shining, silver rings inlaid with small diamonds catch the sunlight. His eyes dart up to Harry who is smiling at him with so much fondness on his face it’s almost too much to process.

“Marry me?”

Louis tries to speak but his mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton balls. Sweat prickles at the nape of his neck as thoughts rampage through his head, spinning out of control with such velocity that he can’t get his brain to grab onto any of them. He manages a tiny squeak in response and Harry chuckles, reaching over and laying his hand on top of Louis’. 

“Lou. You’re my world, my everything. You mean more to me than the air I breathe. I never thought I’d get a second chance with you, with us, but then the universe went and gave it to us, in the most emphatic way possible. You know,” Harry says, pausing. “I always imagined we’d end up together, even after we broke up. I just couldn’t see a future without you, to be honest. And maybe that’s weird and maybe that means I should’ve fought harder for us when we were going off the rails, but it almost felt like we needed to do it, to have that time apart, so we could find our way back to each other. And now, here we are, and I never want to spend another day away from you. I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep every night wrapped in your arms. You make me happier than I ever thought possible and I wanna be your husband and live our lives together until we’re old and wrinkly. I love you so much, baby, so very much. Please say you’ll be mine. Marry me?”

Harry’s heartfelt words wash over him on a wave of emotion, settling in his chest and making it swell to overflowing. Louis knows he loves him, knows that he wants to spend forever with him, through all the good times and the bad, through every joyous occasion and every difficult circumstance. He wants to make memories to look back on and plans to look forward to. He wants it all, with Harry. His Harry. 

“Okay,” Louis says and turns his wrist, threading their fingers together and squeezing them tightly.

“Okay?” Harry asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll marry you,” Louis says. “I’ll marry you because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, because you’re the only person I want to wake up to every morning, because I love you more than anything in this world, and… because you make a mean fry up.”

Harry beams at him. “I knew you only kept me around for my cooking.”

“Well, that, and you’re pretty good company. Plus, I guess you’re not too hard on the eyes, Styles.”

“I love you,” Harry says and takes one of the rings from the box, sliding it over Louis’ finger and slotting it into place.

Louis reaches over and takes the other ring, sliding over Harry’s outstretched finger. “I love you too. So much.”

“Lou?”

“Mmmm…?”

“We’re getting married,” Harry says with the biggest, brightest smile Louis thinks he’s ever seen on his face, and that’s saying something.

“Can’t believe you beat me to it,” Louis chides goodnaturedly.

Harry rolls his eyes. “As if I was gonna wait around for you to do it. I’d like to be married before we need zimmer frames to walk down the aisle, baby.”

Louis stands and takes Harry’s hand, pulling him to his feet and wrapping his arms around his neck. Harry leans down and seals their lips together, opening up and encouraging Louis to do the same. Clifford must sense that he’s not the centre of attention and drags himself up, pushing between their legs and whining for a pat.

They break apart and Louis reaches down to ruffle his fur. “What’s up buddy? Wanna go-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Harry says, snatching Louis’ hand and dragging him toward the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind them. “You’re mine for the next few hours…  _ fiancé _ .”

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks in challenge just as Harry bends down and lifts Louis up and over his shoulder, striding to their bed and throwing him on top. “Oi!”

“Shut up. You love it,” Harry says, already undressing, eyes wide with hunger.

Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “We didn’t even get to finish breakfast,” he grumbles but Harry pays him no mind, stalking towards him as he flings his shirt off to the side.

Harry knees up onto the bed. “I’m sure there are other things we can find to satisfy our appetite,” he says with a devilish smirk as he flips Louis onto his front, yanking off his sweats and briefs in one go.

“Whatever did you have in mind?” Louis muses, propping himself up on one hand and strips off his shirt, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his hips before resting back on his elbows with his head hanging down, fringe falling in front of his eyes. He waits, chest expanding and contracting in anticipation, feeling the bed dip between his legs as Harry spreads them further apart to make room for himself.

“Always so gorgeous, baby,” Harry murmurs as he trails feather-light touches down the insides of Louis’ thighs eliciting a soft moan from Louis’ lips. “I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you.”

“Nrrrghhh… yeah, talk dirty to me, babe,” Louis says earning a giggle from the man behind him as he grinds his cock into the pillow.

“Fiancé,” Harry says, running his hand back up to cup Louis’ balls. “Wedding.” He presses a knuckle against his hole. “Marriage.” Harry runs his fingers up Louis’ crack and circles his cheeks. “Till death do us part.”

Harry has many talents in the bedroom—too many to even catalogue properly—but the one thing he prides himself on, and the thing Louis loves the most, is his glorious mouth and tongue on his hole. On it, around it, in it. Harry is masterful and always puts his all into giving Louis the most thorough and toe-curling rimming sessions imaginable.

Harry pulls Louis’ cheeks apart and blows warm air over the puckered skin, his hole twitching in response. Harry likes to tease him, is the thing, work him up slowly, building to a peak and then easing off before pushing him back to the edge again, over and over until Louis is fucking gagging for it. He likes to watch Louis squirm and writhe on the bed, unintelligible pleas mixing with moans of ecstasy.

Harry nips and sucks at his cheeks, fingers digging into his flesh to hold him in place, not that Louis would go anywhere, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. The first swipe of his tongue sends a shiver through Louis’ body. “Yeah, Haz.  _ God _ .”

Harry just hums in response and circles his rim before prodding the tip of his tongue inside, sparking all of Louis’ sensitive nerve endings and firing electricity through his veins. Louis is still pretty loose from the proper fucking Harry gave him last night, bent over the side of the bed as Harry had pounded into him mercilessly. He’s been insatiable recently and Louis has been on the receiving end of almost daily doses of Harry’s cock or tongue or hand or mouth, even some of their toys have been getting a decent workout. Louis isn’t complaining though, not one bit. He can’t get enough of Harry; in bed, in their daily lives, every moment is a joy to behold and he counts himself as the luckiest man alive that he’s snapped up his soulmate, his love, his life partner.

Harry pushes in deeper, his tongue caressing Louis’ walls as saliva dribbles down tickling his balls. He adds a finger and then another as Louis pumps his hips, the pressure on his cock pushing him further towards the edge.

Harry must sense he’s getting close and he pulls at Louis’ hips, lifting his pelvis away from the pillow and removing the delicious friction he was getting. Louis face-plants into the sheets, turning his head so he can attempt to suck some air into his deprived lungs, whining high in his throat and earning a sharp slap to his arse cheek in response. The sting burns, Harry’s handprint no doubt branded on his skin, which always wakes the animal within him.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry slurs out. “Look so good. Hole all wet and fluttering. Wanna be inside you. No. I  _ need _ to be inside you.”

“Y-yeah. Want that,” Louis stammers, overwhelmed with emotion and desire as he hears the tell-tale sound of the lube being uncapped and exactly when Harry managed to grab it Louis doesn’t know, nor care.

He feels two slick fingers being shoved inside and the sensation of fullness is a welcome relief. Harry twists his wrist, finding Louis’ prostate just as fast as he always does. Louis jolts forward but Harry drags him back to where he wants him with his free hand, fingers digging in and sure to leave bruises. Louis tries to push up onto his hands but Harry is rubbing at his spot with such intensity his body is a trembling mess.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Harry practically growls, adding a third finger. “Get you to come on my cock, yeah?”

“M’ready, Haz,  _ please _ ,” Louis hears himself beg, his voice seemingly far away, like he’s disconnected from his body. Harry ignores him, just keeps his relentless ministrations on his prostate until Louis is sure he’s gonna come.

Louis whines, trying to move away further up the bed, his orgasm building low in his gut, but Harry just slaps his arse again, harder this time. Louis feels his muscles tense and relax, a wanton moan escaping his lips. 

Harry’s fingers disappear and Louis hangs, suspended in time as he waits for what he so desperately wants, breath held, gaze fixed on the sheets beneath him. Harry doesn’t draw it out too long though, the brief nudge of his cock at Louis’ hole as he lines up the only warning he gets before Harry is sliding into him in one long glide.

It’s a lot, all at once, but Louis accepts it gladly. Harry always knows how to prepare him so it’s just on the right side of too much; a stretch and a relief in equal measure.

“ _ Fuck _ , Lou. So perfect. Always so perfect. Take me so well, baby,” Harry murmurs reverently behind him as his the front of Harry’s thighs press into the backs of Louis’.

“Move.  _ Please… _ ” Louis whispers, barely audible but it’s enough for the desired result, Harry pulling out and slamming back in, forcing matching groans from them both. Louis grips onto the sheets tightly, fisting them in his grasp. They come away from the edges where they’re tucked in, providing no anchor for him as he’s jostled about, Harry’s movements hard and sure, pounding his hole and slapping against his arse. 

With one hand firm on Louis’ hip, Harry’s other hand finds its way into Louis’ hair to hold him in place, pulling hard and making his neck strain back. The new angle forces his pelvis to tilt and Harry’s cock slams into his prostate, every thrust pushing him closer to the edge of oblivion.

Their moans and panted breaths mix with the sounds of skin on skin and lube slicking in Louis’ hole, a cacophony of glorious, sensual music to his ears, primal and animalistic. 

Louis wants to get a hand on himself but he knows better than to try when all it will result in is it being unceremoniously batted away; Harry’s possessive streak both a frustration and an immense turn on.

“Never wanna stop fucking you, baby,” Harry says, an edge in his voice that Louis knows all too well. “Gonna fuck you for the rest of our lives. Until we’re old and grey,” his words muffled in Louis’ ears as the blood rushes in, surging, the world reducing to only them. “Love you so much, so... fucking... much…” Harry says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips and a harsh tug on Louis’ hair, his scalp stinging, sending tingles shooting down his spine.

“Harry…  _ please _ . Wanna come,” Louis pleads, body wound tight ready to snap like a rubber band stretched to its limit.

“Yeah, baby. Soon, so soon,” Harry grunts out, increasing the intensity of his movements, harder, more, again and again. Louis’ vision is closing in, blackness at the edges and he knows he’s nearly there, ready to fall, to give himself over, a puppet on the strings that Harry is controlling.

“ _ HarryHarryHarry _ …” It’s all Louis can manage to get out before he’s coming, crashing, a dizzying sensation taking over him and he wails in ecstasy. “Yes! Ohmygod  _ ohmygod _ …”

Harry let’s go of his hair and Louis falls limply onto the bed, using all the strength that he has left to push against the headboard to give Harry the leverage he needs as he chases his own release. A few more thrusts and Harry stiffens behind him, a satisfied smirk creeping onto Louis’ lips as he hears Harry guttural moan and he comes inside Louis. 

Harry collapses onto Louis' back, lips finding his neck, licking and kissing a trail across his shoulder. He’s always so needy after he comes, like he’s trying to claim Louis and soothe him at the same time. Harry shifts his hips backwards and pulls out, rolling off him and pulling Louis to his chest, away from the come-stained pillow. The bed is a mess, sheets and pillows askew, the smell of sweat and sex clinging to every surface, and it’s perfect. Everything is fucking perfect.

Harry nuzzles into the nape of Louis’ neck, wrapping him up in his arms, wiping Louis’ come away with the sheet. He guides Louis head around until he can reach his lips, soft kisses and panted breaths shared between them as they let their post-orgasmic haze dissipate.

Louis stretches his arms out, catching the glint of his engagement ring in the sunlight that streams through their window. He reaches for Harry’s hand and threads their fingers together, their rings clinking against each other. “So. You’re gonna marry me, eh?”

“Mhmmm…” Harry murmurs as he presses kisses behind Louis’ ear.

“Tomlinson-Styles?”

Harry sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

“Me too, Lou. Me too.”


	4. Epilogue

_ 10 months later... _

On a bright summer's day at the end of May, their friends and family make the trek to the castle and stand together in the conservatory to witness Harry and Louis exchange their vows. It’s a simple affair, only their nearest and dearest in attendance. They speak words from their heart and make promises for the future that they will never break; to love and care for each other, to watch over each other, to support and laugh and bring light to each other’s lives no matter what obstacles get in their way.

The tables fill one end of the grand ballroom, the other end set aside for a dance floor and band. White lilies rise up in large centrepieces with ivy winding down the crystal vases and over the crisp linen tablecloths. Small hourglasses are dotted around the tables and hold a single tea candle surrounded by blue sand in remembrance of their strange time away from this world. Not that anyone knows, of course, never having spoken to another soul about their experience. Who would believe them anyway?

The sun has set, dinner has been eaten, and the band has long since shifted into romantic ballads to wind down the evening's proceedings. 

Louis watches Harry from across the room, flitting from table to table, laughing and joking and embracing the remaining guests as he goes, truly in his element.

He’s stunning, that’s a given, but tonight he is simply radiant. He’d been so happy with his choice of a gorgeous suit in flamingo pink which made his luscious lips appear even more kissable. Louis had barely been able to contain himself when Harry had modelled it for him a couple of months ago, and later that evening he’d ridden him into oblivion. Louis’ suit is nothing to be sneezed at either, a beautiful silver that Harry says makes his blue eyes sparkle and compliments his black button-down, just like Harry’s own. 

Louis catches the glint of Harry’s engagement ring as he waves his hands about animatedly, now nestled snugly next to his wedding band. He glances down at his own hand wrapped around his tumbler half-filled with vodka and melted ice and admires the tungsten band next to the silver engagement ring. He’s never been one for jewellery, not like Harry, but these rings are different, more.

The lights from the cars pulling up in the courtyard shine through the tall windows, ready to ferry the next batch of guests to the bed and breakfast a few miles down the road. It’s been a long day, thoroughly enjoyable, but exhausting, and he’ll be glad to have the place to themselves once more, even if only until the post-wedding brunch tomorrow.

Louis gets up and wanders over to Harry, farewelling the last of the guests aside from Liam and Niall.

The opening bars of Eric Clapton’s  _ Wonderful Tonight _ fill the empty ballroom and Louis takes Harry’s hand and leads him onto the dance floor. He spins around and clasps his hands behind Harry’s head, swaying then back and forth. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best, Lou. Best day of my life.”

“Me too. Tired, babe?”

“Mmmm… good tired though,” Harry says and leans down to place a chaste kiss on Louis’ lips. “You?”

“Yeah. Tired. But not  _ too _ tired,” Louis says with a wink.

Harry smirks at him and runs his hands down over Louis arse, giving his cheeks a playful squeeze. “Never too tired for that.”

“Oi! Keep it clean, boys!” Niall shouts from across the room.

“Fuck off, Horan!” Louis yells back, earning a giggle from the man in his arms.

The song comes to an end and Harry wanders over to thank the band and let them know they can pack up while Louis tracks down a waiter and grabs them fresh drinks. They join Liam and Niall at the table and slip into their easy banter, just the four of them, just like it always used to be. 

After a while, the conversation dies down, all of them feeling the effects of the long day. It’s Niall that breaks the peaceful silence. “So…” he starts, swirling his drink and looking at Louis and Harry with mischief in his eyes from across the table. “You guys never did tell us how you got back together.”

“No, we didn’t,” Louis says cryptically.

Liam leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “Care to share with the class?”

Louis lets Harry take this one and settles into his side, hand resting on his thigh and fingers trailing up and down the inseam of his trousers. “We told you. We just sorted our shit out.”

“Thanks for that completely useless explanation that reveals absolutely nothing,” Niall says, exasperation in his tone. “Come on. There’s got to be a story. One day you were avoiding each other and then at Sheffield, you just decided to up and hug like that?”

“Thought the fucking arena was gonna collapse,” Liam says, the expression on his face making it clear he’s reliving the moment in all its vivid glory.

“Just wanted to give the fans what they wanted before we went on hiatus. You know, final show, end on a happy note, closure,” Harry offers, still not giving anything away.

“But like. How? We didn’t see it. Everything was normal. Did you do it in person? Was it over text? Did you go to couples therapy? What?”

Harry honks out a laugh. “No. Not couples therapy. We just spent some time together and realized that what we had was worth a second shot. We’d missed each other terribly, and I guess we’d grown up a bit too. It was just the right time.”

Niall throws his hands in the air. “You two are pains in the arse. Details! We want details!”

Louis turns and meets Harry’s gaze. “Well… we  _ could _ tell them, I suppose,” adding a wink that only Harry can see.

“Ohhhh… yeah. I guess we could,” Harry says with a grin, reading him like a book as always.

“Yes! Fucking finally,” Niall says and mirrors Liam elbows-on-table position, eyes wide, nodding his head in encouragement.

Louis smiles to himself. This is going to be good. 

“Okay. So on stage at Sheffield, we were about to avoid each other like we always did, and there was a blinding light. The next thing we knew we were waking up in a tower in the middle of a raging ocean, like the one in Harry Potter when Hagrid comes to take Harry to Hogwarts. And there was an hourglass, like those ones,” Harry says pointing at the smaller versions of them on the table. “Anyway, there was an hourglass and under it was a note saying that we had twenty-four hours to basically sort our shit out before we returned to the real world. Like, the universe had decided we were worth it or something. So we talked and other uhm... stuff, sorted our shit out, and then we were returned to the stage and that’s when we hugged. We’ve been together ever since. The end.”

Liam and Niall just stare at them, brows furrowed and mouths agape. A beat passes, and then another before Niall finally breaks. 

“You fuckers,” he says with a shake of his head. “Exactly how far up your own arses are you that you think the universe would be bothered to do that?”

Liam purses his lips. “You could've just said you got drunk and fucked each other’s brains out instead of making up such a ridiculous lie. At least  _ that _ would’ve been believable.”

“Or, like, told us to mind our own business,” Niall scoffs.

“Awww… but where would be the fun in that?” Louis says with a smirk.

Niall slaps his knees and gets to his feet. “Right! Well, now that I’ve had my bedtime story, I’m gonna head out. You coming, Li?”

“Yeah. I’m beat,” Liam says as he stands. “Back here for brunch, boys?”

“Yup!” Harry and Louis reply together. “Cars will be ferrying everyone from around ten,” Harry finishes for them.

“Alright. See you bastards around noon,” Niall says as he slings his arm over Liam’s shoulder and they head across the ballroom, Harry and Louis waving goodbye as they make their way out to the waiting car.

“If only they knew we were telling the truth,” Louis muses.

“Mmmm… if only. You ready for bed, baby?”

“Definitely…  _ husband _ .”

“Oooooh nice,” Harry says as he takes Louis' hand and pulls them to their feet. “Although, I think I like spouse better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a highly underrated term.”

“Spouse it is then,” Louis says as they wander across the courtyard hand in hand, gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

Louis' eyes are drawn up to the full moon, glowing down on them and he slows his steps, Harry wrapping himself around him from behind. “It’s beautiful,” Louis whispers.

Harry places a kiss behind Louis’ ear. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Louis leans back against him. “Do you think the universe got it right?”

“Mhmmm… I definitely do.”

Louis spins around and slides his hands up under the lapels of Harry’s jacket, pulling him in and kissing him deeply before easing back to look into his husband's eyes. “I think so too. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Gonna make love to you until the sun comes up.”

“I like the sound of that,” Louis says and leans back in for another kiss, forever grateful that the universe didn’t give up on them and granted them a moment in time to right their wrongs and find forever in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, a kudos or comment or both would be lovely xx
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [ jacaranda-bloom ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/) and if you’d like to reblog my [ Tumblr fic post ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/post/634982337381285888/a-moment-in-time-by-jacaranda-bloom-written-for) that would be lovely!
> 
> PS If you'd like to be notified when I post other stories, you can subscribe [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/).


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